Magnum PI meets Spider-Man
by Bobby H
Summary: This is just one of those things you just kind of type out when you get bored... I hope you like it. It takes place in 1985.


This is a work of fiction. I don't own Magnum, PI, or Spider-Man. This story is for fun, and nobody made a dime off of it.

 **MONDAY MORNING**

 _The Daily Bugle Newspaper - New York_

J. Jonah Jameson, newspaper owner _extraordinaire,_ smiled from ear to ear as he spoke into the telephone. With the phone receiver crunched between his right shoulder and his ear, he used his hands to light a cigar as the man on the other end of the phone line spoke. Jameson occasionally answered with a "Yes," or "I agree," as the man went on. Finally, in an attempt to end the conversation, Jameson said, " _The Bugle_ is always happy to send a photographer to cover events such as yours. We consider Mr. Masters' novels to be an important part of today's culture. Yes, sir, we'll send one of our entertainment reporters and a photographer to cover the event. We'll be more than happy to let our readers know about the release of Mr. Masters' new book."

Jameson was comfortable in his office, knowing that he was more or less a king in the publishing world. He also knew his newspaper was getting paid a tidy sum to cover the release of the latest novel from Robin Masters, a reclusive author. Whenever Robin Masters put out a new book, it was an event that was considered worthy of media coverage. Jameson was more than happy to send two of his employees to Hawaii to cover it… especially since Robin Masters was footing the bill for the trip. A big part of Masters' success as an author was his ability to market his books and drum up interest for them. But nobody knew who he was, or what he looked like. It was suspected that "Robin Masters" didn't even exist, and he was merely someone's pen name.

The man on the other line was a Jonathan Quayle Higgins. He was making requests of the publisher. As Major Domo of Masters' estate, he was allowed to do so. Jameson was all too eager to agree with almost any demand Higgins could make, knowing that it came at no financial expense to himself. "Oh, Yes, yes, we'll have someone there by Friday morning, your time," he replied. "We look forward to covering this event. See you soon."

Jameson hung up the phone and allowed the smile to vanish from his face. In its place was a scowl, which seemed much more natural to him. The softness and agreeability in his voice also vanished. It was time for the magnanimous public image to disappear, and to go into despotic tyrant mode. He looked across the desk. There was a man standing near the doorway. Robbie Robertson was editor of _The Bugle_ , second only to Jameson himself. He was invited into the office to hear the conversation, and also to stand ready for orders immediately thereafter.

It was time for Jameson to start barking orders. "Robbie, go get me Claffey and Parker. Those are the two I'm going to send."

"John Claffey's not an entertainment reporter," Robbie replied. "He usually covers the political beat." Robbie was not afraid to stand up to his employer. Though Jameson's word was final around the offices, Robbie served as a counterpoint, and more often than not, the voice of reason. Sometimes Jonah would listen, and sometimes he wouldn't. This was one of the times where he wouldn't.

"I know, and I don't care." Jameson answered. "Get him anyways."

Robbie furrowed an eyebrow. "But you just told them you'd send an entertainment reporter."

Jameson took another puff of his cigar. "Life is subjective, Robbie, my friend. Claffey's work is quite entertaining to me. That's why I choose him."

John Claffey was a Washington insider who joined _The Daily Bugle_ a few years earlier, providing a good insight into the workings of Washington, DC. Around _The Bugle'_ s offices, he maintained a low profile and continued to put in good work, week after week. Yet for some reason, Jameson had never taken a liking to him. Claffey didn't care much for him, either, and it showed.

The idea of sending a political reporter to cover an event better suited for the Arts and Entertainment reporters didn't sit well with Robbie. "Jonah, I can't go along with you on this. I know you don't care much for Claffey, but you don't need to punish him like this."

Jameson leaned his head forward at Robbie. He said slowly: "Hawaii, Robbie. He's going to Hawaii. And he's getting paid to spend a week there. That's hardly a punishment. Think of it as a vacation. Besides, it's not even an election year, and the Supreme Court has ended their session."

"You really don't like him, do you?" Robbie asked.

"Robbie, you should know by now that I really don't like _anybody_. And make sure Parker goes, too. Now get down to accounting and make sure Marjorie has some travel vouchers ready before noon."

"Ok," Robbie answered.

Jonah laughed loudly. Answering, he said, "You know, that's the beauty of this whole thing. The Robin Masters Foundation is paying _us_! Do you honestly think I'd give that dime store novelist the time of day otherwise? Have you even read one of those cheap paperbacks?"

"I don't think I like this. It reeks of them trying to get a good review for their book."

¨So what if it does? They're not getting _any_ review out of us. You know me well enough by now to know that I'm not going to start selling reviews. I've invested too much of my life in this business to let some silly review bring it all down around us. And you can say whatever you want about me, well, _almost_ _whatever_ you want about me, but the one thing you can never say is that I'm not an honest journalist."

Robbie sighed. "I know that, Jonah. Believe me, I do know. I just don't like the implications. And I _really_ don't like the way you're handling this. What's with you sending Parker?"

Jameson put his cigar out in an ashtray on his desk. "Parker? I actually like Parker. He's a good kid. But don't _you_ go telling him that. It might go to his head and -"

"He'll think you should start paying him a decent wage?"

"He could start making demands. He is, after all, the one who gets us the Spider-Man shots. Consider this Hawaiian getaway as my reward for the circulation he's brought us. Best of all, I didn't even have to pay for it."

Robbie stood up and began to head to the door. He turned around and looked at Jonah. "You know, for somebody who hates Spider-Man as much as you do, you sure like selling newspapers with his pictures in it."

Jonah guffawed. "Aw, get out of here. And I want Claffey and Parker both in my office in the next hour." Robbie nodded his head and made his way back into the newsroom.

Jonah turned around in his chair and looked out the window, into the city below. He wondered if Spider-Man was out there, slinging his webs and jumping from skyscraper to skyscraper. "Robbie makes a good point," Jonah said aloud, looking at the neighboring buildings. "I don't like him, but he's made me a lot of money." He paused, and then repeated. "But I still don't like him."

LATE MONDAY/ EARLY TUESDAY MORNING

2:02 AM 

Hawaii – "Robin's Nest"

 _Parts narrated by Thomas Magnum, Private Investigator in_ _ **BOLD**_

The red Ferrari pulled up to the mansion at a cautious speed as it came rolling in. It was covered in a muddy cake that stood out on the vehicle's red paint. It was being driven ever so slowly in the hopes of not being noticed. The headlights had been turned off in the hopes of remaining inconspicuous.

 **Now, I know what you're thinking. "Magnum went out on a case and ended up dirtying up Robin Masters' Ferrari, and now he's trying to sneak back into the estate in the hopes that Higgins won't notice." You're absolutely right. My only hope was that Higgins was sleeping.**

Thomas Magnum parked the Ferrari behind the gatehouse. Opening the door ever so slowly, he got out and shut the door as quietly and carefully as he could. He then tip-toed his way over to the guest house, one step at a time. About halfway there, he thought he would be home free.

 **Things were going so great. I was almost to the guest house, when -**

Two Doberman Pinchers ran towards Magnum, barking wildly in the night. He now had no choice but to run. Fortunately for him, a voice cried out.

"ZEUS! APOLLO! Step down, lads." The dogs suddenly laid off their attack and sat peaceably on their hind legs.

A spotlight, presumably from an expensive flashlight, shone upon Magnum. Turning around to a painfully bright light, he saw Higgins standing there, holding the light like an usher at a bad movie theatre.

"Alright, Higgins, you win," Magnum said. "Now could you please put the light out?"

Higgins chuckled. "I must confess, Magnum, I'm quite enjoying this. You lost our bet."

 **Oh no. A month earlier I made a wager with Higgins that for the next three months, I wouldn't be out past midnight for any reason, even if I was working on a case. I dealt with a couple of real doozies in that time and still made it home. But tonight I was hit with extenuating circumstances, and I knew it was going to cost me. Big time.**

"You know what this means, don't you, Magnum?"

Magnum sighed. "Yes, Higgins, I know. It means that I'm going to have to work security the night of the book release party. But I'm begging you, please, please, please, let me do the next book release instead of this one."

 **I really wanted to win that bet, because I had made plans to go to California for a weekend with my friends TC and Rick. We were going to see a Los Angeles Dodgers game, and take in as many sights and sounds of the mainland as we could. But now it looked like they were heading off without me.**

"Rules of a wager must be honored, Magnum. Without honoring these rules, chaos ensues. I can recall a wager I made with a lad in 1938, while I was a student at the RMC in Sandhurst. It was a late Monday, early Tuesday similar to this one, with nothing but the full moon as our light…"

 **Sometimes I don't know what's worse: having to help out at a Robin Masters event** _ **,**_ **or having to sit through one of Higgins' stories.**

When Higgins had finished his tale, he excused himself for the evening. As he and Magnum parted ways, Higgins walked toward the main house. He let out a loud exclamation of disgust as he noticed the large amount of mud on the Ferrari. "Magnum! Come here at once!"

Magnum rolled his eyes and walked over to the car. He knew Higgins was going to want some answers. "I can explain. I was trying to find this guy, his name was Tamahori, and I had to follow him to a spot near Manoa Falls, and it was really muddy, but there isn't a scratch on the car. Lieutenant Tanaka was with me and he apprehended him."

Higgins glared at Magnum. "Really, Magnum. You're showing your lack of decency here. Trying to tell long stories in the middle of the night…"

Once again, Magnum rolled his eyes.

Higgins continued his chiding with an order. "Mr. Masters will probably be here tomorrow. I'm certain he would expect you to thoroughly wash this car when you awake at 5 AM."

"5 AM?" Magnum asked indignantly. "Higgins, it's almost 2:30 right now."

"Then you have sufficient time to take a nap before you begin cleaning in the morning." With that, Higgins walked off.

"Well, at least I get to meet Robin Masters!" Magnum yelled to Higgins. "I'm sure you'll be right there with him!"

At 4:55 A.M. Magnum was awakened by the sound of Higgins standing at his doorway with a bullhorn. "Magnum! It's time for you to clean the car! Mr. Magnum, awake!"

Magnum stumbled off of the couch he slept on, still fully dressed in the clothing he wore the previous day. He figured he'd have time to shower and change after taking care of the Ferrari, but he still wasn't ready to deal with this.

"Alright, alright, Higgins, I'm awake!" Magnum yelled, annoyed. He got off the couch and waded through the clothing found on the floor. The place was a mess, and Magnum knew it. He just hadn't been home much lately to clean. His cases were keeping him busy.

At the door, Higgins stood with a bucket full of soapy water and two large sponges. "I took the liberty of drawing the water for you, though I shouldn't have," he said. "I just don't want Mr. Masters to see what a mess his car is."

"How convenient," Magnum said. "You always have Robin's best interests in mind."

"He is my employer, you know. I do have a reputation to maintain with him."

Magnum squinted his eyes. He was still of the belief that Higgins and Masters were one and the same. This act wasn't convincing him. "You can drop it, you know," he said. "I know that you and Robin are one and the same."

Higgins raised both eyebrows. "Really, Mr. Magnum, this kind of behavior isn't very becoming. You're quite irritable when you haven't had any sleep."

"Oh, come on, Higgins. You and Robin are never in the same place. Nobody's even seen the guy. The guy I met last year turned out to be some actor. It doesn't take two and two."

"You really overestimate yourself as a detective," Higgins replied.

"Private investigator," Magnum said, correcting him. "I'm a private investigator."

"Well for the next hour you'll be employed as a car appearance specialist." Higgins handed the bucket to Magnum. "I'll be back to monitor your progress."

At 6:30 A.M. Magnum had nearly completed his work. The outside temperature was growing unseasonably warm, and sweat was forming on his brow. He turned to see Higgins walking forward, carrying a tray with a pitcher of what appeared to be lemonade along with two large glasses. Higgins set it down on the table nearby.

As Higgins went back inside, Magnum walked over to the table and poured himself a glass. "Thanks, Higgins," he said, gulping the lemonade down.

"My goodness, Magnum, have you no manners?" Higgins yelled, protesting. "This glass is for Agatha. We are having a special meeting of the Anglo-Hawaiian horticultural society today. Since she and I are the two co-chairpersons, we were meeting out here to discuss the rhododendrons and other perrenials. Now, because of your lack of manners, I will have to go find two new glasses and a new plate. You just drank from one of the only two from a set. Really, Magnum…"

"Sorry," Magnum replied. "I just assumed you made it for me."

"Really, Magnum, when have I ever done that for you?"

"Well, you _have_ saved my life before."

"Those were different… circumstances. You're in no mortal danger, you're washing a CAR!" Higgins went back inside, irritated.

 **TUESDAY AFTERNOON, NEW YORK TIME**

 _ **The Daily Bugle**_

"Parker! My boy!" Jonah Jameson said, smiling. "I have some good news for you about your trip."

Peter Parker had just walked into the offices of the Daily Bugle, carrying his bags and camera equipment. He had packed for the Hawaiian trip, and although he wasn't entirely looking forward to it, he knew that it could be relaxing. His only worries were about his dear Aunt May. He hated to leave her like this, but he was thankful to have someone like his girlfriend, Mary Jane Watson, there to look after her.

Parker lived a double life as the masked hero, Spider-Man. A few years earlier, as a high school student, he and his classmates toured a laboratory where he was bitten by a spider that had been irradiated by a laser beam. Parker discovered shortly thereafter that he was given the proportionate strength and speed of a spider, and was also able to climb walls and stick to ceilings, just like a spider.

At first, Parker thought he would use these powers to make lots of money and possibly fame for himself, but after losing his beloved Uncle, Ben, to a criminal, he knew that he should use those powers for good, and not for personal glory or financial gain. His life was forever changed by the death of his uncle.

"What is it?" He asked Jameson, knowing that the man could be more than a little insincere in his compliments. Parker knew that if Jameson was acting like this, there was definitely something in it for Jonah.

"I got a call last night, and Robin Masters has asked specifically for me to attend. I'm letting Claffey stay back at the news room, instead."

"Poor John," Parker responded sarcastically.

"So now, my boy, you get to fly out first class with your boss." Jameson grinned. "You'll get to learn so much from me and my wisdom." Jameson was far from humble.

"How wonderful, Jonah," Peter replied. The plane flight suddenly got a whole lot longer.

He wondered what was in it for Jonah. Obviously, the plane tickets were paid for by the Masters Foundation, because Jonah would never shell out first class for anybody but himself. So, _that_ question was definitely answered. But still, he knew Jameson was no fan of Masters' work. Every time a new Robin Masters novel came out, Jameson was reluctant to cover the release. Why was this time different?

"I know what you're thinking, Parker," Jameson said. "Why do I need to step down from my perch to oversee the release of a new Robin Masters novel? Well, the answer is simple. Robin Masters is a big fan of _my_ work. Which, I'm sure, also means that he's been watching the news out here and is equally disgusted by Spider-Man."

It was hard to tell why Jonah was bragging about this. It was very possible that Masters asked for the publisher in the hopes of getting even better coverage, and knew that the best way to grease the wheels of progress with Jonah would be by flattery. It was no secret that Jameson thought very highly of himself, his editorials, and his paper. What better way to reach the heart of J. Jonah Jameson than through the lavish praise of J. Jonah Jameson?

"I see," Parker replied. "When do we leave?"

Jameson, still giddy over the compliments paid to him responded happily: "I'm all packed. Hey, you!" he yelled to a passing copy boy. "Go get my luggage from the office. Have Robbie Robertson unlock the door for you. Take it down to the lobby."

As Jameson prepared to make his way out of the newsroom and down to the exit, he passed by the desk of his secretary, a beautiful young brunette by the name Betty Brant. "Make sure you take down every call I get for the next week in detail," he said. "And don't let _anybody_ call me collect out there. And don't you call me unless it's an absolute emergency. We're not paying any expensive phone bills."

"Yes, sir," she answered. "But you should know that something is coming through the wire for you." She paused and grabbed a printout from the computer. "It appears that there's been a prison break. The one that they call the Hammerhead is out."

 _Great_ , Parker thought. _Just what I needed to hear._

"They say that he's taken a flight to Hawaii, of all places," she continued. "It looks like you'll be able to cover the story while you're there."

"This is excellent!" Jameson said exuberantly. "I can cover the story and get a byline for myself. J. Jonah Jameson gets the story one more time!"

Parker cleared his throat.

"And you might catch some pictures of him while we're there," Jameson said, less enthusiastically.

"Of course," Parker replied. "We should be going."

Suddenly, the young man was glad that he packed his red and blue costume for the trip.


End file.
